Magic Number
by Shaded
Summary: Another sister fic, but not like any other you've read before. Zoey, the only blood Mercer, is less Mercer than any of her four brothers. Before, during, and after the movie. Follow the unexpected trail of a girl stuck with a family she never wanted
1. Chapter 1

Zoey watched with tired disinterest as her alarm's digital numbers switched from 1:33 to 1:34. For hours now she had laid there, on that straight narrow bed with one of those mattresses that felt like it had lumps through the whole thing, watching that clock, watching the hours pass.

Groaning, she shifted uncomfortably, her insomnia was becoming worse, it now took at least several long hours before she could get any sleep, if even that did it. Night time was a bad time for resting, at least that had always been Zoey's opinion. She was quite sure that humans were meant to live during the night and sleep during the day, an idea she'd thoroughly tried to implement most of her life. Now however, time wasn't her own. Growling and muttering under breath Zoey recalled the events that led up to her current situation.

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_Sirens wailed unceasingly, their long moan becoming a monotonous filler in the background. The flashing lights over the dirt covered snow lit the building and yard in a weird halo of sound and brightness. _

_Zoey had run at a full sprint the whole half mile to the apartment. By the time she got there, several body-bags on stretchers were being hauled into coroner vans, ready to be taken to the morgue. Zoey barely spared a glance that way and instead pushed aside the yellow tape marking the area as a crime scene. As a burly officer tried pushing her back she ducked under his arm, and ran around him, dodging through the press of policeman and investigators. Bursting in through the well-known door, it's red paint peeling off of the frame, Zoey took the rickety stairs two at a time, her short legs pounding down the narrow hall before coming to a dead stop in front of the an open doorway leading into apartment A-8. It only took the pursuing officers a second to catch up with her, and by that time they found the small form of Zoey, leaning over the stiffening corpse of a woman, a face made so unrecognizable by the shotgun shells that were pumped into it, that even the officers were turning away. _

_There was no screaming or crying or any emotional behavior at all, just a cold shocked silence as Zoey rode in the back of a cop car, her steel eyes sightlessly staring out the window, not registering the images they saw there, instead of the snow covered landscape she saw a mass of flesh, so brutalized that it was nothing but bloody pulp. Flesh that had once been a loved face, so familiar, so right. That was gone, along with everything she'd known for sixteen years. Thoughts came in random congealed bursts, incoherently expressing themselves but blocked by an ice barrier that was erected automatically against all the hurt, all that pushed on her world. _

_The next two weeks were hell, hell on earth. Handed like baggage from one person to another, social workers, lawyers, attorneys trying to work out her mother's pitiful will. The first time the world around her became a place of sound, noise, and smell once more was when the social worker assigned to her, sat her down, gravely looking over various papers and importantly shuffling them. _

_"Zoey." No response. "Zoey... Zoey! Pay attention please, I know you've been through alot but this is very important. You need to listen to me." Listlessly, Zoey's steel gray eyes turned on him, unnerving in their relentless look. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the worker cleared his throat importantly. "We've gone through all your mother's papers, her will, deeds, and other documents. We found your birth certificate. And it turns out you have family." _

_At that last word 'family' Zoey's senses zoomed forward. Face tightening, suddenly alert and questioning in a way that made the worker even more nervous than before. "Family?" She said quietly, the first thing she'd said in days. Her voice was careful, light and very, very, tense. The worker glanced to his papers, again clearing his throat. "Ah yes, that's right. Family. Your Father, do you know anything about him?" Zoey shook her head slowly, "It was a one time thing, I never knew him." There was a small silence before she demanded, "Why?" _

_"Well, we've been trying to locate him and it turns out he was killed, almost ten years ago." Zoey hugged her loose sweatshirt around her tighter, her body relaxing slowly. Watching her the man continued, "But we did find his next of kin." Stiffening once more Zoey stared unblinkingly at the worker. Wanting to get this little conversation over as soon as possible the man rushed on through. "His mother," Glancing down at his papers, "Evelyn Mercer."_

_It was just a name yet Zoey knew she'd remember it till her last breathe, that name would mean everything to her. It was all she had. Wanting some sort of response the stressed social worker prattled on, his eyes skimming now and again back to his documents. "She lives in Detroit, an elderly woman, she has four adopted sons. It turns out her biological one, your Father, she never knew. He lived with his Father when they separated early on in the marriage. The Mercers are --- ..." _

_Statistics, information, Zoey didn't want any of it. She wanted to see that woman, to know her, she wanted to see who she was inside, not what she did or what had happened to her. Her wandering thoughts were momentarily distracted by a final statement made in a different tone than the rest of the man's jumbled words. "She's agreed to take you." _

_Zoey absently glanced over her fingers, carefully examining calluses, and lines, how they connected and where. The social worker shuffled his papers. "That's it then." she finally said, her husky voice unreadable. "I go to live with her, as her granddaughter." Her voice wasn't questioning but the worker took the opportunity to assert his superior knowledge. "More as a daughter, there are papers to be filled out, that sort of things takes awhile. We should be ready to leave tomorrow morning, early." Zoey nodded, making no comment. Things were happening that she couldn't control, ever since that day two weeks ago everything had turned into a wild vortex that swept her into it, taking her wherever it would._

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And there she was, laying one of those indistinguishable beds that made themselves unique in being so uncomfortable. 1:49. Rolling over onto her stomach, stuffing her face into the pillow Zoey tried to clear her head and sleep. It didn't seem possible, to much was floating through her mind. She'd never get to sleep. She started upright, the first orange glow of morning streaming in through her eastern window. 5:58. It was time to be going.

Two hours later Zoey was riding through the residential area of Detroit, crowded streets and houses with children running and playing, it wasn't a bad picture but Zoey wasn't looking for a good one. She didn't give much for the looks of her new home, it wasn't that that worried her. Despite everything, even her usual calm Zoey was nervous and was trying hard not to show it. Her social worker, after making several weak attempts of conversation the first half hour of their drive had given up and they'd driven in silence. It wasn't a long ride, but it left too much time open for thinking and Zoey had taken to counting the passing vehicles, getting her mind off where she was going... and why.

As they pulled into a narrow drive in front of a nondescript house, snow crunching under the tires of the car, Zoey felt her stomach clench involuntarily. "Zoey, are you ready?" With a brief nod the girl grabbed up her bag containing clothes and other personal items and opened the door, stepping out into the crisp air. She stared at the house slowly and then walking quickly she stepped up to the front door, the social worker trotting to keep up with her. The door opened as if the owner had been waiting for them. Zoey gazed upwards. A kindly white haired woman stood there, her lined face wreathed in a genuine smile. Zoey was taken aback, she wasn't sure what she'd expected but this picture wasn't quite it. Still smiling the woman nodded warmly at her, "You must be Zoey."


	2. Chapter 2

Zoey's left leg dragged painfully as she limped up the steps and into the house she'd only just begun to think of as home. It was hard to believe that only three weeks ago she'd known nothing of Evelyn Mercer or Detroit. That'd she'd been living with her Mother in a rundown apartment. It'd been along time since she'd sat down and tried to think about thing, it got too confusing. There was to much too worry about. She'd gotten used to just living and forgetting about reasonings and logic. At least, that's what she told herself.

Zoey had been home-schooled her entire life. Living with a single parent it came in handy to go at your own pace, finish your school within a few hours and then work a job. Money was always needed and spending an entire day in school with a bunch of other kids had never appealed to Zoey anyway. Children her own age had always annoyed her. Shortly after coming to live with her grandmother, she was still getting used to that, she was sent to the public school in downtown Detroit. Zoey hated it. She'd never been forced to endure hours cooped up in the same environment, teachers droning on about things she already knew, ridiculous tests that were merely given to prove that they had been given. Zoey was quickly moved up to the eleventh grade and her obvious intelligence didn't endear her to her 'cooler' classmates.

She didn't fit anywhere into the ruled system. She preferred dark clothes, unnoticeable cargo's and long sleeved shirts and a long coat to cover it. No make-up, no piercing or tattoos, therefore she couldn't pass as a goth. There was no way, with her sober style of dressing, that she'd pass for a prep. She was extremely athletic but not outgoing enough to be in the sporty group. She was completely unlike any of the other kids and knew it and if there is any unkinder creatures than humans it's teenagers.

The first week they left her alone but the second week a group of boys and their counterpart girls who fancied themselves 'gangstas' cornered Zoey in a alley on the way home. She'd known what was coming, she'd seen it since her first day there and she'd been ready. The largest of them swaggered up to her, a broken pipe in one hand twirling lazily, the rest followed closely reminding Zoey strangely of a pack of dogs.

"Hey, kid!" The leader called out, a slow smirk playing across his dark face. Zoey thought that was abit rich coming from a person who couldn't have been more than a year so older than herself. Turning slowly, she faced the lot of them, maybe ten in all. She didn't say anything as she watched them, not really worried but concerned by how she would handle it. If things went badly, if she made the wrong choice or move... Zoey shook her head quickly as she remained silent, waiting for them to make the first move.

"Yo, you hear me?" Demanded the boy.

"I heard you" Replied Zoey quietly.

"You know why we're here?" Drawled the boy, pleased by the response.

"Your looking for an excuse." Zoey said in the same monotone. The kid was beginning to get irritated.

"Yeah, that's right. An excuse to fuck your ass up bad." Zoey blinked, this was getting nowhere. They could give no real reason for wanting to 'fuck her ass up bad'. It was just a game. And if they wanted to play, well, then she'd play but not by their rules.

"You talk to much." She finally said, finally cracking a slow smile.

"Yeah, well, how's THIS!" At the last word the kid lunged forward, pipe whistling through the air to swipe the empty spot where Zoey had been standing a moment before. Dodging to the right she collided forcefully, head down, into a boy standing beside the leader. The boy went down, with her on top of him. Like crazed animals the rest of them leaped, something like a football tackle with Zoey at the bottom. Wriggling away to the side, trying to avoid flailing limbs and wild punches, she caught a kick in the ribs which sent her head reeling. Angry with how it was progressing she got to her feet, turning just in time for the pipe to miss her head, it still landed a glancing blow on her shoulder the rusted metal ripping a nice gash into her lower neck. The pipe swung again and this time Zoey grabbed it with both hands, sending a spinning sidekick into the body that held the pipe. The boy was flung violently back as Zoey kept hold of the pipe, her new weapon. Swinging right and left Zoey couldn't help but feel a rush of adreline. She lived for this! Call it whatever you may, bloodlust, but she reveled in the warm glow of excitement and gloried in her own movements. Smashing it down hard on the head of one last remaining girl, the rest had seemed to get away at a faster rate than Zoey would have given them credit for, she glanced around then looked down at herself. Torn clothes, a large gash in her neck which was now pouring blood, aching ribs, and something wrong with her ankle now that she thought of it.

Looking at the groaning mess around her, a few more kids limping away hurriedly, Zoey suddenly felt a wave of shame. She'd been taught better than this, she knew better! There were other ways of handling your problems, her mother would have been horrified. But then, she was dead wasn't she? What had living the way she'd lived ever done for her. Landed her with a shitty job, not enough money and a kid to support.

Running her hands through her hair which was now hanging loosely in long waves of auburn/brown having escaped from it's holder, Zoey turned and began walking slowly, painfully home. Today she was supposed to have been home early, today she was supposed to be meeting Evelyn Mercer's grown sons. Zoey was hardly looking forward to it. She knew exactly how'd she feel if she were them, another kid, trying to squirm a way into their family, an impostor faking at being their sister. She was disgusted with that position but couldn't help it. She was here, for better or for worse, there was nothing she could do to change that.

Walking in through that front door and dragging her leg through the kitchen she stopped short. There in the dining room, gathered 'round in a semicircle were four men. Four brothers. No one would have ever taken them for brothers, even the Caucasian ones. Their faces, expressions were completely different, no resemblance whatsoever. Evelyn herself was standing a little to the right of her, obviously she had just been talking to the four of them.

An awkward silence reigned as Zoey painfully switched legs, leaning more heavily on her good one. She made a rough picture. Her small stocky body was held defiantly, almost defensively, pale face thrown back, gray eyes regarding them solemnly with just a hint of suspicion to them. She had high cheekbones and a tilted-up nose, wide-set eyes with noticeable dark blue circles underneath. Her white complexion showed up strongly against the dark red blood that was now running even faster out of the six inch gash across her lower neck and shoulder and her dark clothes were ripped and scuffed.

"Zoey!" Exclaimed Evelyn in one breath. The named girl couldn't help but flinch at the tone, obviously the woman was disappointed and upset. But hardly horrified, she hadn't raised four sons not to have things of this sort happen to them. "Come along now, we'll have to get that cleaned up. It should need stitches but we'll see if we can butterfly it." Grateful at least for the bustling manner that diminished some of the awkwardness Zoey backed up from the dining room and turned into the kitchen, waiting patiently by the sink for Evelyn. She came a second later, a large medical kit in one hand. Only a few moments later she had the shoulder neatly patched up and was lifting Zoey's shirt to see the large blackening bruise that spread across her stomach and ribs.

"Nasty" Commented a male voice. Glancing quickly up Zoey saw the oldest of the four, from Evelyn's description she knew him to be Bobby and she'd gotten the impression that he was the boss-man of the four.

"Sure is." Answered Evelyn when Zoey made no remark, dabbing antiseptic on the area. Pulling her shirt back down over the darkened bruise Zoey stood stiffly, waiting for the inevitable introductions and dull greetings that would follow.

Evelyn straightened, closing the medical kit. "Boys, this is Zoey." The boys all nodded, almost simultaneously as Zoey's emotionless gray eyes looked them over scrutinizingly, not really caring if she was being rather unnerving with her unorthodox approach.

"Hey, kid." Answered the first one. "I'm Bobby, Bobby Mercer. This is Jerry, Angel, and Jack." There was a pause before he added with a grin, "Cracker Jack."

There was none of the dislike or indifference that Zoey had expected, instead a sort of conventional friendship was offered. A loophole into the group. She didn't know what to think about that. But then, nothing so far had been completely as she'd supposed it would be. Nodding slowly she spoke for the first time.

"Zoey, Zoey Mercer."

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**So... Meet the Mercer brothers! **

**What do you think? Read/Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

When she heard those words, the words that ended a life, she sprang for the door to run, to get away from anything, everything, but mostly herself. The officer reached out to stop her but she sent her fist into his face with a rage born out of desperation. Bellowing with pain he let go and she flew out the door, down the familiar white steps, and out into the cold Detroit streets. She didn't know how long she ran, her breath coming in short gasps, burning pain running through her chest and legs, but at last she collapsed in some street alley her legs refusing to take any more punishment. Her pale face was completely drained of any life as it remained fixed in the same expression it had held when she'd heard those words. The words that said that Evelyn Mercer was dead, murdered. The one woman in the world she cared about since her own mother's death. The woman who had filled a gap that was now hollow again, she ached so deep it felt as though her heart was eating at itself. Grief had never been physical for her before, she'd gone through one death well enough but this, this hurt so bad it felt like death itself. She wished she could die.

She was found several hours later, in that same alley, curled up in a ball, her limbs stiff and numb from the harsh cold. Half unconscious she was taken to her brother's house, Jerry, the only one who still lived near home. She didn't acknowledge him or his family, didn't bother to even speak. Jerry was grieving just as badly as her, in his own way, words weren't needed. Words couldn't cut out that horrible aching throb that pulsed with a life of it's own.

Two years had passed since that day she'd walked into the Mercer house, alot had happened in two years, and then, not much at all. Zoey hadn't changed much, she never did, she hadn't changed since she was born. Always the same calculating, indifferent demeanor that only twitched aside once in a great while to reveal a dry humorous fondness for the things close to her. But time was always moving and Jack, the youngest of the brothers had moved out only a little while after she'd moved in. Bobby and Angel had already been gone, she hadn't seen them since that holiday they'd spent together. That day of their first meeting. Jerry was the only one who stuck around, looking out for Mum and what she was doing, handled her financial affairs.

Despite all that Zoey had never been close to any of the brothers, Evelyn was the only one she'd ever trusted enough to let herself like, even love. Besides, she had never spent much time around them, there wasn't any need to. And now, trapped in her own cage of anger, hate, and sorrow so deep it seemed endless there was no-one to turn to. It had always been that way, the one person she could have opened to was one person she lost.

She spent that night at Jerry's, the funeral was tomorrow and when morning came Zoey refused to go.

"What do you mean your not going?" He demanded, his voice high with incredulity. "She was like your Mother, for two years and you don't even go to her funeral?"

Zoey didn't flinch, but inwardly she felt a wave of guilt. She was being selfish, it was only for herself that she wanted to stay away, she wasn't thinking about Mum or what she would have wanted. Finally, turning slowly from the wall she'd been staring fixedly at, she looked at Jerry.

"Fine. I'll be down in a few minutes." Zoey never wasted many words, not unless she had a good reason, and without looking at Camille who had been standing quietly next to Jerry she took the stairs to the guest-room where she'd slept. Throwing on a long black coat over her dark shirt and cargo's she glanced at herself in the mirror, she looked almost ethereal, her face thinner than usual those dark circles pronounced by several nights with no sleep. Her back-length auburn tinted hair was loose and hung over her shoulder in heavy waves. She would have passed for a child by her height, not even five feet tall, if not for her matured body and her face which had never looked like a child's. She was seventeen. Graduated from High-school over a year ago and thinking about what came next. Sighing Zoey straightened the lapels of her coat, taking one final look at herself. Presentable enough for Mum's funeral she decided.

The funeral was all she expected and worse. Watching the people, and there were many of them, express their various griefs and condolences made her burn with anger. What were they! What did they know about this. She felt like murdering every single one of them as jealousy and hate overwhelmed her. Evelyn Mercer was hers, hers and hers alone. What right did they have to claim her love!

They sat in the front row of chairs, Jack and Bobby on either side of her and Jerry one space beyond. Angel hadn't made it, she didn't know why and didn't care enough to wonder about it. As an old man, one of the city council, came forward speaking his deepest regrets on the 'untimely' death of their Mother Zoey couldn't handle it anymore. Jolting upwards she faced the startled man. "Untimely!" She spat, her husky voice grating with pent in rage. "You call that an untimely death! You --- ..." She was cut off as Jack grabbed her arm, pulling her back down into her seat. The poor man moved onwards with one fearful glance at Zoey who's face was twisted in a look of agony. Unexpectedly Bobby spoke, "Take it easy, kid." Instead of the remark angering her further it released some of the rage and feeling suddenly tired Zoey relaxed in her chair nodding to both Jack and Bobby.

During the ceremony she didn't cry, she knew some of her brother's did, but she didn't, couldn't have not even if she'd wanted to. She didn't cry when she'd heard and she wouldn't cry now. Dry and cold her face was fixed in an inscrutable mask one that didn't change even as Bobby drove Jack and her back to Jerry's. Zoey hid herself upstairs until the people were gone then she snuck out of the house and ran all the way back to her own, the Mercer house. Just as she ran up the steps a car pulled into the driveway behind her, Bobby, Jack and Jerry got out, coming in through the porch door she held open. Angel was there, sitting in the corner of the darkened entryway. The brother's were glad to see each other, even under the circumstances and Zoey felt a pang of loss as she watched them. She didn't share what they did, not that. Suddenly remembering her they turned towards her. She was different than them, it showed just like it did with everyone she was with.

Shaking her head and breaking the sudden awkward air that entered the room Zoey stepped forward, a slow smile spreading over her cold features.

"Good to see you, Angel." She said not moving forward to hug him as his brother's had. Zoey had never been comfortable with people hugging or touching her, she'd always been that way. Even with the two people she'd loved. She didn't like touchy people, it made her uncomfortable and she was glad that none of her brother's were that way. At least not with her. Still smiling the five of them turned and together walked through the door into the Mercer house.

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**Thanks Kade for the tips and thanks everyone else for reviews and encouragement! Keep it up!**


	4. Chapter 4

The thanksgiving dinner had been hard to go through and extremely uncomfortable. Zoey couldn't have been happier when the last plate was put away and she was free from her obligation of eating with her brothers. The overwhelming presence of Mum being there, even though she wasn't, was so strong that it pervaded the air. During the meal Zoey had almost felt as though she were sitting there among them, watching them. She didn't like the idea, however much she'd loved Evelyn Mercer, the faintest notion of her ghost lurking around was enough to send hardcore Zoey into huge discomfort. After they were done Zoey headed immediately for the basement. The bottom part of the house had always been her place of sanctuary, her very own spot for everything she did. Evelyn had given her the space as soon as she'd noticed Zoey's intense desire for privacy.

It was nearly an hour later before her brother's missed her. Jack who'd been in the living room with the rest watching the game suddenly looked around.

"Where's Zoey?"

It took them a moment to realise they hadn't seen her in a hour and had no idea where she was. Jerry had already told them of her tendency to run off whenever and wherever she felt like. The four of them, entering the kitchen paused suddenly as a thumping rhythm of music met their ears. It was coming from beneath their feet. Pulling open the side-door that led down to the basement the four of them trooped downwards as blaring metal pounded into their skulls. Bobby, who was the first stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, looking around him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The cellar was empty of everything, no furniture or shelves except for a small cot shoved over into one lone corner. In the middle of the room were two large punching bags hanging beside each other. Various metal bars and spring boards were placed strategically over the length of the rest of the room the place almost looked like a playground but with a rather menacing edge to it. At the far end of the room was a large rack where at least ten, possibly more, knives of different lengths and shapes were placed. A bulls-eye was placed alongside it, several knives protruding from it's center.

In the middle of the room, dressed in loose black cargo's and tank-top, was Zoey. Her back was turned to them as she spun through the air, landing spinning mickey kicks and front kicks to the punching bags. Whirling in time to land several punches and back-fists in rapid succession she landed, but not in time enough to get her feet under her, falling on her back she rolled and was on her feet again two knives appearing and with a wild yell she flung them at the target at the end of the room. One hit wrong and clattered to the floor, the other struck the center exactly and stood quivering. Back at the bags Zoey gave up her kicks and instead pounded the bag mercilessly with her fists, over and over again in time with the roaring Linkin Park metal she struck wanting the bag to bleed all the pain she felt. With one last punch followed by a high kick she turned and strode away, as she turned she caught sight of the four brothers watching her with wide eyes. Obviously they didn't know her.

Heaving a slow sigh Zoey shook her head and hitting the stop switch on her CD player she walked over to them. Sweat was running freely down her pale face and her hair was flung in a scattered mess over her head making her look as rough as she felt. Staring at them expressionlessly she spoke quietly, inwardly cringing to have been caught displaying her emotions like that.

"Did you want something?"

Out of nowhere the four of them felt as though they had been caught intruding, something about the way their foster-sister had asked that question had implied they shouldn't be here. Pushing the feeling aside with force Bobby shook his head.

"Nah, nothin'. Just wondered where you were."

Without saying a word Zoey turned and walking over to a metal bar jumped upwards, catching hold of it and lifting herself upwards. She was furious now, and at them, this was her place and who were they to be checking up on her. Wondering where she was... Growling under her breath she heaved herself upwards again, the muscles in her arms showing larger than any normal girl.

Jack, who'd ignored Bobby's and Zoey's brief dialogue had moved over to Zoey's set of knives and was looking them over admiringly.

"Where the hell you get all this stuff?" He asked her over his shoulder.

"I know someone." She replied shortly, finishing with the bar and now standing. Waiting pointedly for them to leave. When they didn't, Bobby still staring pointedly at her Zoey strode forward. Her gait smooth and controlled. She was still feeling raw and angry from everything that had happened and was in no mood to tolerate further intrusion to her life. Especially intrusion by those she barely knew beyond their names. She'd been civil enough and let them alone with what they wanted, if they didn't have the common courtesy to treat her likewise she wasn't going to be the one standing for it.

"Listen." She stated quietly, her low voice trembling only slightly with rigidly controlled emotion. "I don't know you, any of you. The only thing we had in common was Mum..." There was a hesitant pause before Zoey added ruthlessly, "She's dead and not coming back. You lot don't know a thing about me, what I do, who I am, where I go. And you shouldn't have to. It's not any of your worry what I do, it's my own thing. So don't go on feeling like you've got to look out for me. I don't need you, I never have."

The silence after Zoey's matter-of-fact speech was noticeable until Angel, shaking his head, said. "Fuck! Come on, the games still on." And turned back towards the stairs. The rest stayed where they were, Jack and Jerry looking at Bobby as if waiting on him to settle whatever this was that had come up.

Finally Bobby shrugged, his hard face hardening even more. "Think what you want Z. Mum adopted you, your one of us. That's all there is to it. Like it or not."

Zoey took a step forward, her anger becoming rapidly more convulsive. "That it then." She said slowly, her husky voice rising and overcoming her usual impassiveness. "You just tell me like it is? News flash Bobby, or whatever the hell your name is! This is my life. I do what I want, when I want. It's always been that way. And I am not one of you. Look at you. Brothers. The Mercer Brothers. Yeah, I know you like the title. Big and bad ass. I don't fit there though, do I? Not Zoey, because I've never fit in any little circle. There was only two people in this world that ever gave a damn about me. And their both dead. What does that tell you! You four want to follow them? Because that's all that comes of being near me. You leave off, I've never needed a babysitter. Never. And when I find who did this I'm going to fuck them up by MYSELF!"

She was yelling now, her normally quiet voice so loud that Bobby backed up step. Bobby didn't look angry, or even disturbed. Not even slightly. Watching her with that same voice he turned and followed Angel up the steps. Jack and Jerry following. Turning over his shoulder he made one last comment which upset Zoey more than anything else.

"Whatever sweetheart. Your a Mercer. We're one of a kind."


	5. Chapter 5

Zoey spent that night curled up on the living room couch, idly watching the clock on the opposite wall. The hours passed until at last Jack was the first to get up stumbling down the stairs.

"What's for breakfast?" He muttered, rubbing one hand through his thick bush of hair. Zoey regarded him stoically, one eyebrow raised. "Whatever you can make." She responded turning her back on him. She'd be damned if she was going to be running about the kitchen cooking for this lot.

The question was repeated by both Bobby and Angel until at last Zoey ignored them altogether, it wasn't until the three of them stomped out of the house that she moved. Throwing on her coat and pulling on a pair of heavy black shoes she watched as Bobby's car pulled out of the driveway. Moving quickly she went to the basement, grabbing two knives and sticking them under her coat. Pulling a dark cap down over her ears she left the house, closing the door behind her. She had business of her own to do.

It was nearly twelve when Zoey opened the front door only to be confronted by the ominous shapes of her three older brothers. Deciding to take an evasive route she calmly hung up her coat, walking into the kitchen.

"Where the hell were you!" Demanded Bobby blocking her path. Zoey glanced up at him.

"When that becomes your business I'll let you know."

"No, you'll let me know now!" Zoey ducked to the side, entering the living room and settling herself on the couch. Her clothes were ripped and torn, dark circles shadowed her eyes from lack of sleep, and a bloody gash marked the side of her face.

"If we're going to share stories," She remarked caustically her mouth turning in a wry smirk, "why don't you go first. What have you lot been doing today, find anything interesting?" She knew exactly what they'd been doing. Digging into Mum's murder, what else. There was no answer to her question and with a shrug Zoey grabbed a blanket from the arm of the chair next to her, pulling it over her she closed her eyes to all apperances dead to the world. There was an exasperated silence before Bobby swore and headed upstairs, followed shortly by Angel who'd managed to pick up some girl already. Jack however stayed right where he was, hovering over the couch. After five minutes and no sound Zoey opened her eyes, staring questioningly at the youngest Mercer brother.

"Thought I might try something different." He shrugged, running a hand through his already gelled hair.

"And that would be?" Zoey was in no mood for gentle talks or persuasive ramble. It meant very little to her that Jack was actually taking the time to talk to her. To her it was all the same, the four of them interfering, it didn't matter in what way, they just did.

"Listen, I know you don't like us. But hell, we're all you've got now. You don't even know what's going to happen to you now." Jack's tone was serious, almost pleading. A certain note of it caught Zoey's attention. The words were far from comforting but they were factual and she found she appreciated that more than anything.

"And this is supposed to make me all warm and fuzzy?" She asked quietly, her low voice lacking it's usual bite. Rather it was sedate, possibly due to the fact that she was nearly collapsing from lack of sleep.

"No... It's just. I know what you feel like, I've been there. We all have. We all have that in common. Your not alone or deserted, you can't just shut yourself off by saying no one else understands. It's just an excuse, a piss poor one at that."

Zoey raised her eyes to his then, an expression that Jack had least expected on her face. Amusement.

"No, I'm not alone. No one ever is. That's the nasty thing about it all." The half-smile dissappearing as quickly as it had surfaced she ducked back under her blanket.

"Night... Jack-ass."


End file.
